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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29465886">The List</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347'>LadyKenz347</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Hermione Granger, Boss/Employee Relationship, Evil Author Day, F/M, Fake Out Make Out, Hermione doesn't like being a floozy, Hermione has to be a floozy, I don't know when I will finish it or when it will be updated, I wont' kill him, Love Triangle, Pining, Polyjuice Potion, Theo is a minor little blip, This is not complete, Undercover Missions, continued mispronunciation of surnames in order to irritate McLaggen, inappropriate touching to save missions, seriously</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:47:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29465886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy returns to London after spending nearly ten years in the Paris Auror Department. When his new boss— and ex-lover— Hermione Granger enlists his help to track down the criminals on her infamous list, they embark on a journey into the seedy underbelly of London and hopefully reconciliation.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>137</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. T R A V E R S</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>**THIS IS FOR EVIL AUTHOR DAY**<br/>That means that this is not only unfinished, but it also doesn't have an update schedule. I'm posting everything I got! </p><p>I hope you enjoy it, if you decide to read on. Big thanks to Frumpologist for alpha work on this little thing! It is otherwise unbeta'd and might be rife with errors.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This way to your desk, Malfoy.”</p><p>Draco lagged behind his new boss through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, eyeing his new colleagues and the clutter on their desk. Robards turned over his shoulder, his face red from the exertion of breathing it seemed. He was quite the thick fellow, neck spilling over his collar and constricting his airway. “You were in Paris all this time?”</p><p>Draco cleared his throat, lips folding in a tight line. “Yes, sir. The Auror department there was brilliant, but my mother’s health has declined; it was time to come home.”</p><p>Robards grunted.</p><p>From the corner of his eye, a familiar feminine form stole his attention and he reeled, eyes searching her out. He’d know her anywhere but she looked so different than when he’d last seen her ravaged by war and death. Her hair was pinned, wand stuck in the nest of it all, and she was smirking at him.</p><p>“Granger?”</p><p>Something flickered in her chocolate eyes. “I heard you were coming back, Malfoy.”</p><p>A torrent of flesh memories seared in his mind of her coming undone by his touch, on his tongue, on every surface of Hogwarts he could manage sixth year. “You’re an Auror?” Surprise colored his tone as he eyed her up and down.</p><p>“Something like that.” Her lips quirked as Robards saddled up to his side, wheezing.</p><p>“Malfoy, do you know Chief Inspector Granger?”</p><p>Draco blinked, turning sharply to his left where Robards stood then quickly back to the smug witch. “Chief Inspector?”</p><p>Granger’s lips stretched into a grin as Robards continued, “Chief Inspector Granger is in command of your unit.”</p><p>Choking out a strangled nose, he managed, “You’re my boss?”</p><p>“That I am. Enjoy getting settled in, Malfoy.” She had the audacity to wink as she sashayed into the office with her name proudly on the door.</p><p>“You know her well?” Robards asked.</p><p>Malfoy huffed, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Yeah, you could say that… Isn’t there anyone else? Another unit?”</p><p>“Chief Inspector Potter could—”</p><p>Draco cut him off with a strangled whimper. “Nevermind, sir.”</p><p> </p><p>xXx</p><p>A shadow crossed over his desk and Draco’s hackles rose. “How's the desk, Malfoy?”</p><p>He should’ve known she couldn’t stay away.</p><p>“It’s a desk,” he said from the corner of his mouth. “How’s Weasley?”</p><p>The silence that followed caused a grin to stretch over his lips and he lifted his gaze slowly, making sure to take great care as his stare followed the curve of her waist and slope of her breasts, all the way to the unamused glower on her face.</p><p>“Cat got your tongue?” he asked with a wag of his brows.</p><p>“Ronald is fine. I’ll be sure to let him know you asked about him.”</p><p>Draco’s features fell dejectedly. “Don’t do that.”</p><p>After waving a dismissive hand in his general direction, she pointed towards a conference room where nearly a dozen witches and wizards were filing in. “Staff meeting in five minutes. You’ll need to take notes.”</p><p>A simpering sort of look twisted his lips as she produced a cheap plastic muggle ink pen and offered it to him. It had been a real point of contention in their short-lived affair during sixth year that she believed the blasted things to be more efficient, and it was of his firm belief that she was a stubborn little swot who just wanted to prove herself right.</p><p>It turned out they’d both been correct.</p><p>A slow happiness unfurled in his chest as he rose to stand, reaching into his suit jacket and pulled free a silver fountain pen. “I’m covered, Granger. Thanks for the heads up.”</p><p>Rapping his knuckles on his desk once, he whistled a low, merry tune and followed the rest of his new colleagues into the conference room.</p><p>He took a seat next to a woman who smelled like she'd been born in a perfume factory and Robards, who for some reason, was not leading this meeting.</p><p>When Granger reappeared, she was all business. Her sharp heels stomped into the carpet like she was punishing it as she took her place at the top of the room. “Let’s get started, shall we? First order of business, please join me in welcoming Auror Malfoy to the team.” She gestured towards where he sat and while he probably should have foreseen the introduction, a shy blush spread across his cheekbones.</p><p>A quiet murmur rumbled through the room and as he folded his lips and looked around, he realized he recognized quite a few faces. And none of them looked particularly keen on seeing him.</p><p>It’d been almost easy to forget that an entire magical community loathed him. In Paris he was just Draco Malfoy, famous name, handsome face. In London he was still the kid who tried to kill Dumbledore and former Death Eater-slash-coward.</p><p>“Mister Malfoy comes to us from Paris where he’s been an Auror for the last five years. His resume as a detective speaks for itself and from what his Lieutenant told me, he has been put away more dark wizards than any other member of their team. Sergeant Robards and I deem that more than capable to join our unit and that should be all the information you need.”</p><p>“Thanks, Gr—” But then the witch across him made a face and he quickly realized his mistake. “Thank you, Chief.”</p><p>The corner of Granger’s lip quirked but she quickly turned to face the blackboard behind her. Tugging her wand free from the nest sitting proudly on the top of her head, she flicked her wrist and a list of about 10 very familiar names appeared.</p><p>AVERY<br/>
GIBBONS<br/>
<strike>MCNAIR</strike><br/>
<strike>WILKES</strike><br/>
CARROWS<br/>
YAXLEY<br/>
DOLOHOV<br/>
ROOKWOOD<br/>
TRAVERS</p><p>Godsdamnit. Having a list of ex-Death Eaters trotted out was not what he needed on his first day. Draco sank into his seat, lips folding as he awaited the inevitable onslaught of bullshit that accompanied the mention of Death Eaters.</p><p>With another sharp cut of her wand, TRAVERS was lined out.</p><p>“Congratulations to Cho and Cormac on another arrest. Travers was recently apprehended in the highlands with a stash of illegally made wands. Cho?”</p><p>Draco’s eyes dragged from the board to the severe looking witch with her bum perched on the table. Behind her was the dolt McLaggen, lurking.</p><p>“The interrogation went well enough. He’s willing to talk about who he was about to distribute them to if we offer him a plea bargain.”</p><p>An unbidden laugh burst past Draco’s lips and he quickly coughed and covered his mouth to hide it. It didn’t work; every set of eyes in the room had snapped to his.</p><p>“Something funny, Malfoy?” Mclaggen asked, his meaty hand resting on the table. Disgusting.</p><p>“Nope.” He let his lips pop on the second syllable.</p><p>Robards turned towards him. “If you’ve something to say boy, say it. We’re not here to share giggles; we’re trying to catch the bastards.”</p><p>Wrinkling his nose, Draco squirmed slightly in his seat. “I know Travers—”</p><p>“Yeah, bet he was an old war buddy, wasn’t he?” Mclagged interjected.</p><p>Red twinged the corner of his vision but Granger admonished Cormac before he could fire back.</p><p>“As I was saying, McLoughlin—”</p><p>“Mclaggen.”</p><p>“I know Travers and he’s a lackee. Guaranteed. He has pebbles for brains and if you think that he knows any information about anything you’re a fucking idiot.”</p><p>Mclaggen’s fist slammed onto the table just as Cho jumped to her feet and began spitting animosity Draco’s way. But Draco remained unaffected, shrugging slightly before returning his gaze to the front of the room.</p><p>“You’ve been gone a long time, Malfoy,” Granger said seriously. “Things have changed and Travers may be more powerful than you remember.”</p><p>“He’s not.”</p><p>The room let free a collective scoff.</p><p>“He’s a certified idiot, Gr— “ He paused to roll his eyes. “Chief. He’s a pawn and a shit one at that. People far younger than him were given more responsibility in the war.”</p><p>“Like you?” Mclaggen cut in and when Malfoy turned to him and found a smug smirk on the gits face, his lip curled.</p><p>“Do you have something you want to say McDonald?”</p><p>A mirthless laugh cut through the room. “Oh, I have many somethings I want to say to you, you fucking—”</p><p>Draco was on his feet, his hands in fists as Mclaggen took a few strides for him.</p><p>“That is quite enough!” Granger’s voice rang through the room like a shrill bell and both men stood down immediately. “This is my unit, and I’m not going to have the two of you descending into wild animals over school yard grievances.”</p><p>“Chief, it’s not like he was just a git in school. He’s a convicted—”</p><p>“Acquitted,” she amended, though Cormac hadn’t stopped talking.</p><p>“-- He should be behind bars not advising on how to catch his mates from the war! He could be leading us astray on purpose.”</p><p>“Oh, bullshit!” Malfoy shouted. “You’re an arsehat and you’ve always been. I still remember Granger handing you your own arse outside Sluggy’s party, Mcmann. Now sit down before I do it for her.”</p><p>Perhaps the wink he sent the other wizards way was a touch too far because the git was now barreling towards him, stopped only by his tiny witch partner and Robards shooting up from his seat.</p><p>“You two— out!” The room thundered under Robard’s direct order and Malfoy didn’t say another word as he snatched up his blank notepad and pen and stormed from the room.</p><p>xXx</p><p>Draco was pouting.</p><p>That much was obvious.</p><p>He’d known to expect his assimilation into a different Auror program to have it’s setbacks but, for fucks sake, he was at the top of his field in Paris. He’d been a handful of cases away from his own shiny new office and a Chief title in front of his surname.</p><p>Now he was coming to blows with Cormac fucking Mclaggen. Then, because nothing could ever go right, while signing his intake paperwork, he pressed down too hard with his pen and ink spit all over his parchment.</p><p>He grumbled and growled to himself as he pulled his wand free and vanished it.</p><p>“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” The fine hairs on Draco’s arms rose at the sound of the familiar voice. Theo Nott.</p><p>“Is that who I think it is?” Carefully, he set down his pen and turned in his chair, leaning back as a smirk twisted his lips.</p><p>The bloke had grown up in the years since the war; he was taller, his jaw sharper. “Nott, how the hell are you?”</p><p>“I’m good, better know I see the rumors are true and you’re home. Do the others know?”</p><p>Draco snorted. The others. “I’m not sure who much gives a shit, but no, I didn’t tell anyone I was coming back. What are you doing here?”</p><p>Theo perched on the edge of his desk and folded his arms. “I’m between cases downstairs and thought I might come see you for myself. See if Paris made you uglier, as if that were possible.”</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Malfoy said, “You’re a solicitor?”</p><p>“Lead prosecution for the Ministry, means I get to come here and…” His voice trailed off as a witch walked past, lifting her middle finger at Nott without a word spoken. Laughing, he continued, “look for talent. The options aren’t quite as varied in my department.”</p><p>“Malfoy!” Granger bellowed from a few desks away. “My office.”</p><p>“Speaking of talent,” Theo said with a wink and turned to the witch staring pointedly at him. “Granger, when are you going to give in to my charms and let me take you out again?”</p><p>Draco’s nose wrinkled at the last word. Again implied it’d already been an event that occurred and if that were the case he not only owed Theo for getting him out of some tough shit seventh year but also an arse beating for thinking Granger was someone he could go after at all.</p><p>A tight smile that didn’t reach Granger’s eyes pulled at her lips. “You do know how much I adore hearing you prattle on and on about yourself, Theo, but maybe another time.” She turned to charge her way back into her office but paused and pointed a finger at Theo again, “Don’t you be coming down here to cause mischief with my constable—”</p><p>Draco choked. “Constable?” That was the lowest on fucking ladder; he wasn’t a damned constable.</p><p>“But we do need to discuss this Travers case; Cho and Cormac want to take the plea deal. When are you free?”</p><p>A slow grin spread over Theo’s lips. “Tonight? Say seven o’clock?”</p><p>Granger rolled her eyes but Draco didn’t miss the way her lips twitched in a private smile. “You’re incorrigible.”</p><p>The phrase rocked Draco back to sixth year, to when her hidden smiles were his and her insults were really secret ways of telling him how very much she liked him.</p><p>“Fine, you’re buying,” she relented and waved him off. “Send me a memo with where to meet you.”</p><p>“Brilliant.” Theo clapped a hand on Draco’s shoulder and kicked off his desk. “Let’s get together for a pint soon, yeah?”</p><p>Draco’s lip curled as he rose to stand. The fucking wanker; he knew damned well what had transpired between Draco and Granger all those years ago.</p><p>“Let’s go, Malfoy,” his new boss called over her shoulder, already over the threshold to her office.</p><p>xXx</p><p>Her office was meticulously tidy. A few framed pictures on her shelves that were otherwise filled with books.</p><p>“You needed me, Chief?”</p><p>“Take a seat,” she said firmly, not bothering to look at him or take a seat herself.</p><p>His instinct was to argue because there was no situation in which Hermione bloody Granger bossed him around.</p><p>Well, except for this one, it seemed. Hiding a grimace, he took his seat. One thing he knew about the witch was that she liked to see him squirm. She took her time fussing with a few parchments— something that could have done easily before she summoned him— and then walked around the desk to rest on the edge and stare down at him.</p><p>“That was incredibly inappropriate what you did in my conference room.”</p><p>Draco pulled a face. “Your conference room?”</p><p>Something fired behind her eyes and she canted her head to the side, a withering, condescending expression painted over her pretty features. “It’s been a while, Malfoy. And I understand this is a sudden dynamic shift that may be uncomfortable for you. But I’m your boss; I assign your cases; you check in with me. I like the reports on my desk no later than four o’clock so I can review them before I leave and I like them tidy. No chicken scratch—”</p><p>With a loud scoff, Draco kicked his heel over his knee. “You know full well that I have remarkable penmanship.”</p><p>She blinked, and he knew the memory floating across her mind because it was the same one as his. Dozens of hidden notes between classes, ones he’d read over and over again until his eyes were too weary to stay open another moment.</p><p>“Regardless.” She cleared her throat. “And I know our history makes things more complicated but I look forward to our professional relationship. I think you’ll be a good addition to the unit.”</p><p>A surge of strange emotion rose in his chest and he forced a smile. “Thanks, Chief.”</p><p>“Now, let’s talk about Travers.” She kicked off her desk and moved back to her side, sitting primly in her seat. “Why don’t you think we should offer him the plea deal?”</p><p>The fact that she was actually asking settled strangely over his shoulders. Even back at Hogwarts she hadn’t been all that keen on listening to him— just in arguing with him.</p><p>“He’s a fall guy,” Draco said plainly. “A guppy. Whatever information he has to offer will lead you to another gup, not the shark.”</p><p>“He was caught with illegal wands, as you know.”</p><p>Clucking his tongue, Draco shrugged. “Where was he?”</p><p>“His home in—”</p><p>“Was it a pile of shit?”</p><p>Granger huffed in surprise. “What?”</p><p>“Was the house rundown? Something befitting of a dolt like Travers?”</p><p>Her brow pinched and she squirmed in her seat. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean—”</p><p>“It does mean. He’s going to get a shorter sentence of what? One to two years on level 4 of Azkaban? He’ll be out and back at it before you’re thirty, Granger.”</p><p>Silence stretched between them, though it hardly affected him. He was right. The edges of her eyes tightened fractionally and she sucked in a sharp inhale through her teeth.</p><p>“What would you do?”</p><p>“Flip him or try him to the full extend of the law so he serves a hell of a lot more time in Azkaban. I can’t believe he’s out after the war.”</p><p>“He had a very good defense and little hard evidence to convict him. Travers did five years.”</p><p>A laugh burst past Draco’s lips and he motioned to the space between them. “See? Right back at his bullshit.”</p><p>“Flip him, huh? You want us to try and make him a spy?”</p><p>Draco laughed again and leaned forward, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. I want you to make him an informant. There’s a difference because a spy would be loyal to you. An informant is loyal to himself and whoever has the better offer. I’d spook him; tell him he’s looking at a minimum of ten years due to his priors and then say that having him sign on as a confidential informant for five years would give the Ministry cause to look the other way.”</p><p>Granger considered it, her lips pulling down in thought. “I’ll pitch it to Cho and Cormac, see what Theo has to say about making it stick.”</p><p>“Theo and you work together a lot?”</p><p>Her gaze snapped to his; he’d shown his hand. “He’s the lead prosecutor, so yes.”</p><p>“It seemed like there was something else going on there…” Draco dragged his tongue along his teeth and then forced a smile. “Didn’t know he was your type.”</p><p>A lovely laugh tinkled past her lips and she rose, gesturing for the door. “What can I say? Something about a smarmy Slytherin that looks good in a Quidditch kit.”</p><p>Biting back a smile, he stood, pausing in the threshold and banging a fist on the door jam. “That wasn’t an answer, by the way, about Theo.” He turned over his shoulder, a smirk proudly on his lips. “And I still have the kit.”</p><p>He caught her just as a laugh broke free and winked, before disappearing into the bullpen.</p><p>xXx</p><p> </p><p>“Malfoy! Cormac! Cho!” A bellowing ripped through the silence of the bullpen. The three in question shared a confused look and then made their way into Granger’s office.</p><p>She was rifling through some paperwork, barely offering them a spare glance. “I’m going to make this quick and I don’t want to hear any complaints. I’ve talked to Solicitor Nott, and his office is drawing up an official informant agreement for Nicholas Travers.”</p><p>Cho’s hands came down to rest on the back of the chair so hard her knuckles turned white. “Chief?”</p><p>“Malfoy will be his handler.” Granger allowed a beat of silence before Cho and Cormac began roaring and Malfoy began grinning. “I said no complaining! I’ve thought about it, and Malfoy made a good point. He could lead us deeper, and I’m bloody tired of skimming the surface just for the cycle to begin again.”</p><p>“Why on earth would Malfoy be his handler?” McLaggen sputtered, gesticulating wildly to where Draco stood. “He’s been here five minutes.”</p><p>“He has a relationship with him, however estranged, and I think he’ll actually work with Travers to get us the intel we need. I don’t think you’re capable—”</p><p>“Horseshit!”</p><p>Rage burned in Granger’s dark stare and Draco couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so incandescently happy.</p><p>“Stand down, McLaggen. This is my department and my call; your hot head is exactly why you won’t be working with Travers. Malfoy, I’ll need you to head down to Azkaban with Mr. Nott and secure his agreement.”</p><p>“I’m on it, boss.” Malfoy turned with a grin. “Tough shit, McGill.”</p><p>He left without looking back even as Granger shouted, “Malfoy!” at his back and Cormac lunged for the space he left behind.</p><p>xXx</p><p>Nott dressed differently than he had ten years ago. Well, they all did, but he looked more expensive than he had before. And as they stepped in the lifts at Azkaban, climbing to the second floor where the holding cells were, Draco couldn’t help but feel… underdressed. It was not a feeling he relished.</p><p>“Here’s the agreement,” Nott said, freeing a slice of parchment from his files. “I’ll go over the logistics and then I’ll leave and wait outside the door for you.”</p><p>Draco hummed his assent; this wasn’t his first time. It was a well-oiled machine: Nott would step out for deniability and Malfoy would lay the thick on him.</p><p>The immediate dread Draco felt when stepping from the lift was palpable, draping over his shoulders like a wet blanket. It didn’t matter how long the Dementors had been gone, he had a feeling Azkaban would also be void of warmth.</p><p>A shiver inched over his skin as he stepped into the interrogation room. Travers looked much the same— older, still ugly. His skin was sallow and hanging from his cheekbones and Draco could see the glint of madness in his gaze that would probably never leave.</p><p>Nott took a seat and flipped open his file. “Mr. Travers, I know that you had originally been hoping for a plea deal. Is that correct?”</p><p>Travers mumbled his assent even as his gaze stayed locked on Draco.</p><p>“A plea deal is out of the question. I’m here with another offer. I’ll give you the details and an agreement, then Auror Malfoy will answer any questions you may have.”</p><p>“Auror Malfoy? The whelp switched sides?”</p><p>“That he did,” Nott said plainly. “You’re looking at a minimum of ten years in Azkaban, as it stands, Mr. Travers. If you agree to be a confidential informant, you will be working with the Ministry of five years. There will be a list of laws that you are under no circumstances allowed to break; the use of an Unforgivable will void our agreement and you will be sent to Azkaban. You will be required to enter into a Vow of Confidentiality; you will be unable to speak about your work with the Ministry to anyone. We will also be tracking your wand and any spells—”</p><p>“No,” Travers interrupted, his dirty teeth bared in a grimace. “Send me to Azkaban.”</p><p>Nott’s gaze lifted and he canted his chin to the side. “Why don’t I continue on with my portion and you can decline the offer to Auror Malfoy. As I was saying, we will track your wand and any spells used. You will have a tracking spell on you at all times. You’ll be required to meet with your handler every fortnight and contact him if anything pertaining to the case arises. Failure to comply or appear to a meeting with your handler that is not excused will result in immediate incarceration. Do you understand the terms I have set forth today?”</p><p>Malfoy had to give it to the bloke, Nott for all his obvious faults seemed to be a competent solicitor.</p><p>“I do. I still decline.”</p><p>Sighing, Nott rose from his seat and made for the door. “He’s all yours, Auror Malfoy.”</p><p>As soon as the door clicked, Malfoy’s smile lips stretched into a grin. “Hey, Nick. Long time.” Silence. “I think you should take the deal.”</p><p>Travers snorted. “Of course you do, you’re not the one sticking your neck out.”</p><p>“You’ll rot in Azkaban and you know it. What I’m offering you is your freedom and the chance to knock out some of the higher ups that are keeping you under the heel anyway.”</p><p>A crooked, grimy smile formed on Travers’ thin lips. “You’re not offering me freedom, just a different kind of cell. And in this one, you’re my keeper. That’s not a position I’m all that keen on, mate. You’re a traitor of the worst kind— that won’t be my fate.”</p><p>“You’re being melodramatic,” Malfoy said with a flippant gesture. “This is a better deal, you’ll have the Ministry’s protection and a nice set up. There’s a salary, ever had one of those?”</p><p>The man across from him growled.</p><p>“And you’ll get to go for a pint with your mates, you can hang out in the seedy parts of Knockturn as you’ve always done, and your normal life will resume. You’ll just have to tell me what it is you’re seeing. Surely that can’t be so bad?”</p><p>“I can’t,” the man said, his voice almost pained.</p><p>Draco dragged his tongue along his teeth and leaned forward. “I didn’t think I could either, but I did. I got out and I got my shit together. It’s not too late for you.”</p><p>“How in the hell did you get off so easy, Malfoy?”</p><p>“I talked, just like you ought to. I gave the Ministry everything they wanted.”</p><p>A mirthless laugh slipped from Travers’ lips. “Even Lucius?”</p><p>A knot sat in the back of Draco’s throat, memories of the worst day of his life flittering through his consciousness. After a long, pregnant moment he nodded. “Even Lucius.”</p><p>Several minutes of quiet beat on and finally through a clenched jaw, Travers said, “Where do I sign?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. G I B B O N S</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first few days of Draco’s new position passed without much fanfare. They had him do menial tasks like patrol and paperwork but no real cases came to his desk. He contributed nothing to the actual unit and might as well have been a damned  intern. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as he was finishing writing a report regarding a petty crime down in Knockturn, he heard Nott’s smoozy voice over his shoulder. He was approaching with two paper cups and stopped at his desk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aw, you shouldnt’ve Nott,” Draco said as he reached for the closest cup. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Theo pulled it back and admonished him with a glare. “I didn’t. I was just saying hello.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grumbling, he returned to his work. “Next time say</span>
  <em>
    <span> hi </span>
  </em>
  <span>with a cup of coffee, you git.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, mate. It’s for a pretty girl. Speaking of— Hello, Hermione!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco’s gaze lifted and spotted Chief Granger a few desks away talking with Nathan Hubert. She rolled her eyes upon sight of him and finished up her conversation before making her way towards him. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nott, tell me you’re here about a case and not to harass my Auror.” Her skirt clad bum rested on the edge of Draco’s desk and he glowered at it wishing he could poke her away with his wand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am not here for a case </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> to harass your Auror.” He paused, extending the cup to her. “Just to harass you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Groaning, Draco buried his face in his palms. Surely, he didn’t come back to bloody London to watch his old mate flirt with his old girl. “Can you guys take your unresolved sexual tension elsewhere? I’m trying to work.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who says it’s unresolved?” Nott amended, nudging Draco like it was some dirty inside joke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bile rose in the back of his throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fucking hell.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Giggling to herself, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> denying Nott’s implication, Granger took the takeaway cup, thanked him and then promptly left. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Theo sat in the empty chair adjacent to his desk, the one meant for criminals, and took a long, lazy drink. “How are you settling in, mate?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the splinter of time it took to glare at his intruder, a scowl formed. “What are you on about, Nott? You know Granger and I used to get on. I’ve been gone all these years and you start chasing her as soon as I’m back?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shrugging, the git said, “It’s harmless; she knows that. Just for fun.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Does</span>
  </em>
  <span> she know that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you so protective of her all of a sudden? You’re the one who left.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scoffing, Draco rubbed at his eyes. “It’s not as simple as all that and you bloody well know it. Things happened how they happened.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want her back? I’ll lay off if you do,” Theo said with a shrug.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anyone idiot who was willing to give up Granger so easily didn’t deserve her; he knew that because he was one of those idiots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But did he still </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> Granger? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question was simple, and at one point in time, not all that long ago, he would have had an answer for it at the ready. It would have been yes every time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>But things had changed</span><em><span>.</span></em> <em><span>They’d</span></em><span> changed. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They weren’t the two lovesick kids staring at the end of the world like they were back then. Chasms existed between them now, ones filled with unanswered questions and crippling disappointments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Course not,” Draco supplied quickly, unsure if he was lying. Theo’s brows ticked up towards his hairline as he shook his head and took a drink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A horn rang through the air, startling Draco and his signature, ruining another godsdamned parchment. He scowled down at it as though it was personally offensive and then looked up to find the entire department in an uproar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every Auror within sight was reaching for their protective cloaks and darting towards the emergency Apparition point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco followed suit, unaware exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was doing so, until Granger burst from her office, her eyes searching for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy! You’re with me!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” he asked with a tick of his chin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She closed the clasp of her cloak and tightened the holster on her forearm. “South London; two Aurors, Richard and Edith, have Gibbons cornered but he’s shooting out Unforgivables like they’re Jelly Leg Jinxes. And since you don’t have a partner yet...” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’ll debrief us in the field but they need backup. Hold tight.” She was all business as she held her arm out. Malfoy hesitated for only a moment before he closed his hand around her wrist and allowed himself to be rocketed across England.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They landed and were quickly accosted with the sounds of spellfire and screams to stand down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger’s palm slammed into his chest, pushing him backwards. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Protego!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A jet of purple magic bounced off her shield right at the spot that would have blasted through his core. He heaved a relieved breath and gripped his wand tighter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Edith! Richards! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Get over here! Everyone else: shields up!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d never quite seen her in her element like she was now. There was no question that Hermione Granger had always carried the confidence and wherewithal to lead, but now she had the authority and it fit her like a glove. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One by one the other Aurors came side by side. McLaggen directed them and on his signal, they all stabbed their wands into the earth and a protective dome reached up and around them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do I need to know?” Granger asked, her brow pinched in extreme concentration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edith, he assumed, was a brisk woman with a sharp jaw. “We think there are possibly up to four suspects in the building. We’ve got some Muggle repelling charms but they won’t last— not for long.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Malfoy jerked his chin in the direction of the dilapidated building. “Gibbons? What’s he wanted for this time?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Resting her hands on her hips, Granger stared out past the shimmer of the collective </span>
  <em>
    <span>Protego</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Drug trade. Illegal potions and powders have been flooding the dark corners of London. Some in the hands of the Muggles. It’s severely at risk of violating the International Statute of Secrecy, among other things.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco took a step forward. “I can help.” A flicker of confusion floated over her features. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Trust me.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a wink, he turned and heard Granger command Edith and Richards to tag along. He said nothing as he rounded the wall of magic the Aurors were holding strong and pointed his wand at the building in front of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sonarlium.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Orange magic shot from the end of his wand and poured over the walls, revealing crude outlines of the inside of the building and six hot spots in the shape of human bodies. “You’ve got six on the inside,” he said over his shoulder. “Two on the bottom floor, east side. Four on the second, two north, two south.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Merlin,” Richards gaped. “Where on earth did you learn that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t,” Draco said, dropping his wand. “I invented it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Returning to the Chief’s side, he quickly relayed the information and ignored the way Granger looked at him in surprise that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> competent. He continued, regardless, “I think our best bet is going to be entering that side door on the west in teams of two. They can see us from here, so it’ll have to be quick. I’d suggest a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fumos</span>
  </em>
  <span> charm from the flanks of the shield to give us some cover.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s…” Granger paused, sniffing and wrinkling her nose, “That’s not a terrible idea.” Her eyes stayed locked on him, tightening just barely at the corners. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Several pops of Apparition sounded around them, stealing her focus, and there, in all his infuriating glory, was Harry Potter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked older, thicker and less boyish. His jaw was now covered in stubble, which was comical, because Draco still remembered that patchy mess he’d arrived at Hogwarts with sixth year.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Potter approached, eyes looking warily to his old adversary before settling on Granger, all business. “What’s the plan? I came as soon as I could.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need you to stay here and guard the line, the two outermost Aurors need to provide ground cover. Malfoy’s with me and Richard and Edith will take the first floor.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re going in, Chief?” Draco snorted a bit. “I thought Chiefs were just here to look pretty and boss us around.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That earned a sharp admonishing stare from Potter, but Granger merely chuckled and secured her hair in a knot at the base of her skull. “I am; I also just like to collect the baddies while I’m at it.” She winked, her lips curling in a barely there smile. After ditching her cloak, she made her way to the western side of the shield, the other three Aurors following closely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Richards, Edith, stay on the bottom level and be careful. Our first goal is to apprehend, curse to injure if at all possible. Corpses don’t tell stories.” She turned to Draco then. “I take point.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tried his hardest to suppress an eyeroll. “Yes, Chief.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“On my mark.” Granger looked back to where Potter stood, her fist lofted above her head. She brought it down in a sharp punch and Potter screamed, “Now!”</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The four of them were off, barelling towards the west entrance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once inside, Richards and Edith worked in complete tandem, checking the corners with a quiet, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“clear.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger ticked her tongue and began up the stairs, her wand pointed ahead. At the top of the landing, her back touched against the left wall, Draco pressed against the right. They cleared the adjacent rooms and then pressed forward. She paused at another doorway, and just over her shoulder Draco caught sight of a form moving. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into the room she’d been checking, pressing her back against the wall as he craned his neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me!” she huffed, pushing him backward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got a perp at ten o’clock.” Draco stepped back, ignoring her self-righteous scowl. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Sonarlium.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Again the bones of the building were revealed and they could see the two forms to the left and then two to the right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger gasped slightly at the magic at work, and Draco tried very hard not to let his smug smirk get the best of him. There would be time for boasting soon enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“These two first,” she said quietly, pointing to where Draco had just seen the movement. “Ready?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your lead, Chief.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They moved efficiently together down the hall and just as the two came into view, Draco’s heart sank. It was a young boy and girl, no older than he’d been when he took the mark. Upon sight of the two Aurors, they lifted their hands over their head and fell quietly to their knees. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione stilled and then shook her head. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Incarcerous.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A soft whimper escaped the boy as the thick rope curled around his abdomen and pinned his arms. The girl was less affected, sagging in relief. The sight of them made him feel sick; kids should have someone looking out for them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cover me,” Granger whispered, and Draco responded immediately, his wand dropping to point to the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fumos.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thick dark smoke billowed from his wand, filling the air. Granger reeled on him, quickly casting a bubble air charm around herself and cursing under her breath. When it had done a brilliant job of obscuring all vision, including his, he lifted his wand again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Sonarlium.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smokescreen did its job; he could hear the coughing and cursing from the back room. Hermione begrudgingly pointed to the figure on the left and then gestured that he should take the one to the right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t waste another minute, rushing towards the next door and firing into the darkness. Her wandfire lit the grey smoke with a deep crimson. Draco fired next, securing the final suspect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Finite.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The smoke slowly cleared from the room and when he could finally see properly, he turned to the mangled mess of a wizard at Granger’s feet, thrashing and cursing as though he had any chance of breaking free. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Gibbons,” Malfoy said with a grin. “How nice it is to see you again.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fucking blood traitor. I’m going to—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Spend a very long time in Azkaban?” Draco interrupted brightly. “I dare say you shall, old mate.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he turned to Granger, he couldn’t quite read the expression on her face. Sure, he’d taken a few tactical liberties that she probably wasn’t too keen on, but at the end of the day, he’d gotten the job done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But as she poked her wand into her bubble charm and a joyless smile flattened her lips, he had a feeling that wasn’t going to be enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back in her office, reeking of acrid, stale smoke, Draco sat patiently awaiting his admonishment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione had seen the prisoners to Azkaban with the arresting Aurors and politely asked Draco to return to wait in her office— like a chastised school boy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could have </span>
  <em>
    <span>at least</span>
  </em>
  <span> been permitted to work at his desk, but no. Instead he sat here absently twirling his wand in his fingers and watching the minutes of the clock go by. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes caught on a picture frame and without thought, he reached forward and snagged it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>them,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the golden trio, looked to be about fourth or fifth year judging by the size of Granger’s mane. By sixth, when he’d fallen helplessly in love with the witch, her curls had tamed slightly, but in this photograph she was still a bit unruly and pink cheeked, still untouched by the devastation of war and disappointing boyfriends. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ehem</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Granger’s quiet squeak startled him, and he rushed to return the frame to where it’d been, knocking over an ink well in the process. “That’s expensive, you know,” she reprimanded, flicking her wand at the mess he’d made. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have no doubt you have the best non-smudge, permanent squid’s ink money could buy, Granger. I owe you one.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her lips twitched in a fake smile as she took her seat. “What you did today was reckless. You should have communicated what you were going to do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco snorted. “Pray Tell, how and when was I supposed to communicate that, Chief?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Before we stormed the building.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You never gave me the chance—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she interrupted firmly. “Because you weren’t on point— I was. So you didn’t need the chance; you needed to follow my orders. Listen, I know you, Auror Malfoy. I know you’re frustrated being at the bottom of the barrel around here but I didn’t get this desk because I’m bad at my job. And I didn’t need you to join our department. You’ll do well to remember that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco forced a smile. “Yes, ma'am.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That being said, you were brilliant out there.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His gaze snapped to hers. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You did a good job, Malfoy; I’m impressed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A grin stretched over Draco’s lips. “Impressed?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a long suffering sigh, she rolled her eyes. “Let’s hope it’s not the last time. I endeavour to be impressed by my staff as often as they deserve it. Now, tell about that charm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a Sonar charm. In Paris I was in the special forces division, as you know. I did some special training in the States for tactical strategy and reconnaissance. ” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger hummed and leaned back in her chair. After a long moment she released her wand from the holster on her forearm and flicked it at the chalkboard on her wall. The same list from the other day in the staff meeting appeared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AVERY</span>
</p><p>
  <span>GIBBONS</span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <span>MCNAIR</span>
  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <span>WILKES</span>
  </strike>
</p><p>
  <span>CARROWS</span>
</p><p>
  <span>YAXLEY</span>
</p><p>
  <span>DOLOHOV</span>
</p><p>
  <span>ROOKWOOD</span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <span>TRAVERS</span>
  </strike>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>With another sharp slash of her wrist, Gibbons was scratched out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what this is?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um,” he paused, eyes darting around the room. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is my baby.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco wrinkled his nose. “The list is your baby?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Obviously not, Malfoy. These </span>
  <em>
    <span>cases</span>
  </em>
  <span>. These men escaped the war or got off on too light a sentence. I have leads on some of them, rumors on others. But I want them in Azkaban— for good.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leaning forward, Draco dragged his palm over his cheek. “And how do I come into this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think we could work together on this. You don’t have an official partner, as of yet, and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>seems</span>
  </em>
  <span> as though your talents are being wasted on patrol and petty crime. You could help me track them down.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He snorted in disbelief. “Me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Obviously… Who knows, maybe when I graduate from this office, you can have this one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I say you’ve got yourself a partner.” Draco stood and extended his palm towards her. When she took it, he squeezed firmly and took a step forward. “But I wouldn’t be so sure Robard’s office is going straight to you. You might have a run for your money, Granger.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corners of her lips twitched in a smirk. “I’m not worried.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A V E R Y</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As Draco wrangled a single piece of pork with his chopsticks, Hermione studied the board in her office. He was in an absolutely foul mood thanks to the gaudy floral display from one Theodore bloody Nott sitting proudly on the corner of her desk and while he gave it a solid effort, his focus continued to wane. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was clear Granger wanted these wizards locked up, but what surprised him was how much </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> seemed to want the same. His journey into the world of Magical Law Enforcement had been fast and furious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The memories of his time in Azkaban had been clouded by fear and possibly severe disassociation. But that day in the Wizengamot, listening to Hermione and Potter and even McGonagall plea for his life had been seared into his brain like a fire poker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the end, it’d been Granger that had changed everything. Chin tilted high, she stood in front of those men and women who wanted to see him dead and offered them everything. Every memory. Every stolen kiss. Every spoken and unspoken promise between them in the dark. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco’d been forced to endure an hour of watching their relationship copied and vialed, ready to be dissected by the Wizengamot at their leisure. As she’d left, her eyes waterlogged and body trembling, her lips twitched into a sad smile for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was the last time he’d seen her before Paris. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prior to that moment he’d been resigned to The Kiss, but seeing what Granger had done changed him. He’d stood, dirty hands curling around the wrought iron bars and begged for his life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he’d seen her offer and raised it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco offered the Wizengamot his memories of his time during the war. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He also agreed to testify at the trials of every Death Eater in custody, effectively drawing a target on his back. It didn’t matter, he wouldn’t stay in London longer than he had to.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d saved the worst for last, and the day that he testified against Lucius and sent him to Azkaban was quite possibly the worst of his life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The following day, after receiving his official acquittal, he left for the continent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He and Granger had never spoken since, had never discussed the vials of memories in this very building’s archives of them together. He never thanked her for what she did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Thanks’ felt awfully trivial half a decade later and whatever was in the past seemed content to stay there. She’d moved on, gotten herself a big promotion and a front office. She’d fallen in love, and then out, it seemed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t need Draco anymore, at least not past the list she was still studying intently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While he couldn’t ever thank her properly for giving him back his life, he could help her with this fucking list, and that’s exactly what he intended to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Travers had no idea where—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Merlin, Granger,” Draco scoffed, dropping the carton of Chinese takeaway on the desk with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “The information doesn’t change just because you keep asking the same question.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes narrowed and she returned her gaze to stare at the board. “Travers said he was involved in illegal trade. I’ll get a few Aurors down in Knockturn to poke around. If the Black Market is being flooded then we’d see a lack of demand in the shops.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco mused for a moment. “I’d wager Gibbons is involved.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gibbons is in Azkaban.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Obviously,” he deadpanned before rolling his eyes. “Are the drugs he’d been distributing in the evidence locker? I can examine them, break down it’s components. If the drugs are new, then they will have been getting ingredients from </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  That could point us in the right direction.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you often break down illegal drugs, Malfoy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scoffing, Draco waved her off. “I’m not all good looks and unlimited wealth, you know. I completed my potions mastery in Paris under Monsieur Lafayette. “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her features pulled into a confused glower. “You moonlighted in Potions?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Moonlighted?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was her turn to dismiss him. “Nevermind; you just keep surprising me is all.” After shaking her head a few times, Hermione relented. “Okay, start there. I’ll send a memo to the clerk and let them know you’ll be working down there the rest of the day. Report back if you find something.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You got it, Chief.” With a hard slap to the tops of his thighs, he rose and strode easily towards the door. “By the way, those flowers are fucking hideous,” he called over his shoulder, relishing in the small giggle he earned as he returned to his desk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco’s eyes were bleary and bloodshot by the time he realized he’d missed dinner. Cursing to himself, he sat back and dug his palms into his aching eye sockets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a flick of his finger, the flame under the cauldron went out and he stared at the parchment covered in blotches of ink and scratched out lines. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Valerian root seemed prevalent; the drug was likely used to dull the senses of the user. There were other standard bonding components which didn’t startle him much. Traces of Abraxan hair were found, which, while rare and a protected species, wasn’t what gave him pause. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, there was another substance that Draco couldn’t recall seeing before. It’s elemental properties were certainly magical and difficult to extract. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a long sigh, he picked up the vial of the isolated ingredient and rolled it between his fingers. The sample was so small, he wasn’t sure anyone would be able to identify it, but the idea of working through another batch tonight made his lip curl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rising to stand, he flicked his wand at the table, sending all the pieces of his station to the bin to be washed and the inactive ingredients to be discarded. Vial, in hand, he made his way to the clerk and set it between them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After significant grumbling about having to oblige the wishes of a former Death Eater, the young witch behind the counter scowled and completed the intake. With any luck by morning they’d have results from the Potion Regulation Office about it’s origins. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Forcing a smile on his face, Draco turned and left the lab. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For some, the past would never die. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he stepped off the lift and into the DMLE, he was unsurprised to find the floor empty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, almost empty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A single light spilled from the open door of Chief Hermione Granger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Smirking, Draco made his way to his desk and retrieved his cloak. As he shrugged it on, he crossed the bullpen and stopped to lean on the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was hunched over her desk, finger tips pressed into her temple as she read over a long scroll of parchment. A few errant curls had escaped, tickling her cheek and memories of wrapping those ringlets around his finger came to the front of his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clearing his throat, he pushed those memories aside. “You’re still here, boss?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She startled, jumping adorably in her seat before a disproving frown twisted her lips. “I am. So are you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just finished up downstairs; hopefully we’ll have some answers in the next few days.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Humming she returned her interest to the parchment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you need to eat?” he pressed, not wanting to leave just yet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her lips twitched just barely and she pointed to a wilted takeaway salad on the edge of her desk. “I suppose you could call it that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to wait for you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger shook her head and shuffled a piece of parchment to the bottom of the stack. “That’s quite alright, Malfoy. Thank you, though. Good job today.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco lingered a moment, his lips wanting to speak but his mind unable to form a thought. “Night.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t waste time making his way to the atrium, ignoring the skittering feeling of anxiety from the vast, open room. Clutching a handful of Floo powder he stepped into the grate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy Manor, Northern Wing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should sit down, Mother.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Narcissa Malfoy made a choked sound as she moved about her husband’s study, fussing with objects that didn’t need tending to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like he’s coming back to use the room anytime soon. The elves will clean it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco watched as the tension settled over his mother's shoulders and even though her back was turned to him, he could clearly imagine the tight purse to her lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His absence is no reason to let this place fall into disarray. Besides, it will be yours before long and I want to make sure—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mum, it won’t be mine. We’ve been over this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Narcissa reeled, a sad twist to her lips. “Can you just— </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m happy to have you back in England, of course, but I’m tired. Let me do my silly tidying and dream that one day this house won’t be the tarnish on our family history that it currently is.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Draco had explained to Robards and anyone else who asked that his mother’s health was in decline, it had been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>slight</span>
  </em>
  <span> exaggeration. Physically, she was perfectly fine. Mentally, she’d never been sharper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it was something else, something he couldn’t quite place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the core of it all, she was lonely. Her only son had refused to return to the island at any cost, her husband locked away in Azkaban. The remaining Black sister was estranged, at best.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so for her, for all she’d done to keep him safe, he returned. But he’d be damned if he took up residency in this godsforsaken estate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now,” she said with a huff, smoothing the fine fabric of her dress. “I know it’s late, but have you eaten?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco shook his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well, come with me. I’ll have the elves get you something before you go back to that hotel. Even if there is a perfectly good room right down the—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mum.</span>
  </em>
  <span> We have an armistice, remember. I’m in England, but I’m not coming home.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Narcissa sniffed and straightened her shoulders, taking short, purposeful steps towards the kitchen. Draco followed behind, his hand lingering on the door knob as he took another look at the space that had once been his fathers. With a sad, resigned sigh, he closed the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Detective Malfoy?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco’s eyes lifted and found the mail cart witch, standing in front of his desk. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was pretty, with bone straight hair the color of squid’s ink and full lips. And while normally he would happily think about flirting with her until a deep blush stained her high-cheekbones, he was surprisingly uninterested. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your mail, sir.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A smirk pulled on his lips and he held his hand out. Perhaps he wasn’t in the mood to flirt, but it was always good to leave the door open, and whatnot. She delicately placed the scroll in his palm and then sashayed away, peeking over her shoulder just once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was funny the interest he could still get by just being Draco Malfoy. Of all the things the war had tarnished, his allure to the common witch was not one of them. Something about the Dark Mark or the Gringotts account, he couldn’t be sure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she’d disappeared out of sight, he turned back to the scroll. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><b>Department of Mysteries</b> <span>was stamped onto the front and he quickly swiped his wand under the wax seal. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Date: April 12th, 2004</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Analysts: T. Garner and H. Windsor</b>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <b>Genus: Draconis</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Species: Unknown</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>The specimen submitted was originally sent to the Department of Potion Regulation. After failing to identify, it was delivered to the Department of Mysteries and received by Supervisor Windsor. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>The specimen is clearly of magical origin however has yet to be classified under the Ministries protocol. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Specimen holds properties similar to the Antipodean Opaleye’s claw dust, but the colouring does not match precisely. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Notes: </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Handle specimen with care, could be venomous. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Possibly hybrid species. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Strong golden hues with aromatic properties that could possibly incapacitate the handler. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Analysts do not recommend for consumption or potioneering until further tests can be done on a larger quantity. </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco released the edge of the parchment, letting it furl in on itself. No species? It didn’t make sense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If the fucking Department of Mysteries couldn’t figure out what the bloody hell this was, he wasn’t sure who could. With the scroll in hand, Draco made his way to the Chief’s office, rapping his knuckles gently on the closed door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come in,” Granger called, her voice far too chipper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, as soon as he opened the door and his eyes narrowed on the back of Nott’s thick skull, he realised why her mood was so positively elated— even if it made his own stomach clench. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, didn’t know you had company. I can—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy, how are you mate?” Nott’s lips pulled into a bright, gleaning smile. “Let’s get that pint soon.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco rolled his eyes. “I can come back later if you want. I got the results back about the potion ingredient.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, you stay.” Granger rose and gestured for Nott to leave. “Thank you for stopping by </span>
  <em>
    <span>Solicitor</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nott.” Her lips wrapped around his title like it was some stupid private joke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the slightest curl to his lip, he nodded in way of goodbye at Nott’s exit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry about that, discussing the Gibbon’s trial,” she said when Nott was gone, then held her hand out for the paperwork. She read it quickly, the space between her eyes furrowing intensely. “They don’t know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They don’t know. They even sent it down to the Unspeakables but it looks like they are pretty sure it has Dragon properties. We need to get a Dragonoloist up here to collaborate. Who do they have in the beast department?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No need,” Granger said, smiling as she rounded her desk. “I know someone.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scoffing, Draco rested his hands on his hips. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Know someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>? That’s awfully cryptic.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s the best in the world and a personal friend. I’ll reach out to him immediately.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dread pooled in Draco’s stomach. “Wait, know </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Or know a Weasley?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger continued fussing with the papers on her desk, peeking up at him only once. “Ever been to Romania?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No and no plans to.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Plans change, Malfoy. I’d get different shoes, if I were you. Dragon leather might not go well for you out there.” She was smirking at him and it infuriated Draco to no end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Biting back a particularly nasty retort, he turned on his expensive dragon hyde heel and marched back to his desk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back in his hotel, Draco sat on his bed, propped up against the headboard with a bottle of Ogden’s at his side and a tumbler in his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d chosen a Muggle hotel because they were far nicer than the inns of Diagon Alley but in the weeks since his return had fallen into a deep tele binge. It didn’t really matter what was showing, he just enjoyed watching it absently as he worked through paperwork or his theories on the infamous list. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A knock on the door caused him to jump, a few drops of liquor sloshing out onto his joggers. Cursing under his breath, he left the bedroom of his suite and made his way to the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through the peephole was none other than his dear boss, Hermoine Granger. Confusion settled over his features as he released the deadbolt and opened the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Granger?” he asked, resting his forearm on the door jamb. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes widened briefly, gaze travelling to the where the hem of his white undershirt had lifted just barely, and as much as he enjoyed the adoration of the common witch, he enjoyed it infinitely more when it came from Hermione Granger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy,” she said, clearing her throat. “Can I come in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a shrug, he stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice place.” Granger sniffed and dragged a finger along the granite counter of the kitchenette. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks. It’ll do for now. Do you want a drink or—” he realised he couldn’t quite offer food because he had little in the way of it except a bag of overpriced nuts in the minifridge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, whatever you have.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco wasn’t sure what to expect but when she shrugged off her cloak and draped it over the barstool, he was coloured surprised. He hurried back to his room and snagged a beige jumper from his trunk and shrugged it on, then obtained the whisky and returned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After pouring her a glass and refilling her own, he led her to the small sitting area and took a seat. “Is this business or pleasure, Granger?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A delicate blush bloomed along her cheekbones. “Business, of course. I heard back from Romania—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“From the Weasley, you mean.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she deadpanned. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>From Charlie.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Poaching for potion ingredients and other souvenirs is always an issue where dragons are concerned, but he’s noticed an uptick in unusual activity. He’s invited us out for the weekend so we can poke around.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Poke around?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, he’s not allowed to interact with poachers except to inform the local authorities, and they’re rather short staffed at the sanctuary. All this to say, we leave tomorrow. We’ll likely be camping, and I have the department's assistant working on the essentials for that but you’ll need more casual clothes, things you don’t mind getting dirty.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t own things like that. I don’t want </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get dirty.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, get some. Merlin, you love to shop, shouldn’t be too difficult for you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco’s mouth twitched into a crooked smile. “I liked shopping for </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>there’s a difference, and it was really just the one piece of clothing that gave me such joy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The color on her cheeks blossomed and spread down her neck and he knew that she was remembering the satin knickers he’d slipped her at the breakfast table before Christmas holiday. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Careful, Malfoy.” Her voice carried that playfulness Draco had fallen in love with all those years ago. In tandem, they shook away the memories pressing in, and she continued without missing a beat. “So, you’ll get the clothes tomorrow morning. Don’t worry about coming in for desk duty. I’ll meet you in the Department of Magical Transportation offices at eleven and we’ll arrive in the sanctuary outside Bucharest.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds brilliant,” Draco said, lips thinning into a tight smile. “Where does your old boyfriend usually shop for clothes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her nose wrinkled. “Who, Ron?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he obviously doesn’t care about what he wears or looks like. I’ll stop by and pick up some trousers that can be easily trashed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger fought a smile, rolling her eyes as she hid behind her tumbler. “You’re never going to get over Ron, are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, at one time I think I said the same thing about you.” Draco had meant it as a joke but almost as quickly as it was spoken into existence the space between them shifted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ron Weasley had been a point of contention during their sixth year at Hogwarts. It was obvious that the pair of them had a history that Draco wasn’t keen on and when Hermione began to give her attentions to a certain secret Slytherin, his insecurities didn’t wane. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was quite possibly the only time that Draco felt bested by a Weasley and when he left for Paris and the news of the two Gryffindors affair reached the continent, it’d left him gutted. There was nothing quite so helpful as a spurned love to help you say goodbye to your past and that was exactly what he did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he’d done it successfully, might he add, until he went and saw her again. These past five years had given him hope that he was over her but merely being in her presence proved that was untrue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she sniffed after a long stretch of silence. “Well, safe to say I’m over Ron Weasley. Guess it’s your turn.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes drifted slowly to the window of his hotel suite as she demurely sipped at her whisky. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stop studying her, the delicate tightening of her throat as she swallowed and the sad turn to her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>There was a chance, albeit a small one, that Hermione Granger was just as haunted by the past as he was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>The only way to describe the Romanian summer air was </span><em><span>thick.</span></em> <span>It felt like a wet woolen cloak thrown haphazardly over Draco’s shoulders as they climbed the hill past the portkey drop. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger had thought to wear shorts, her hiking boots tied tightly over her ankles and a loose button up blouse the color of her blush. Her hair was tied up, exposing the subtle curve of her throat and even though they’d only been in this godforsaken heat for a matter of minutes, tendrils of curls had begun to cling to her temples. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco had been lucky enough to stumble across a legitimate camping shop in Muggle London this morning and purchased some heavy canvas— and completely unbreathable— trousers and some shirts that he wouldn’t mind throwing in the nearish rubbish bin if they got dirty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And as much as he didn't detest the way he looked, he was completely wet under the clothes, covered in sweat within four steps into Romania. He could only imagine what his hair looked like, probably similar to a drowned ferret, which wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> how he would prefer to meet the broad backed Weasley with muscle layered upon muscle striding toward them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco’s nose wrinkled as Charlie approached with a grin, wrapping his massive arms around Hermione and lifting her easily off the ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now there’s a sight for sore eyes if I ever saw one!” Weasley’s voice was muffled by Granger’s mane, which was now growing by the moment. He set her down, holding her at arms length with a sly smile. “Tell me again why my baby brother was so stupid as to let you go?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The simpering little git must not be able to see very well with his head shoved so tightly in Granger’s arse. Draco could barely stifle a snort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you brought,” Charlie sniffed and tightened a glare on Draco, “Malfoy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You be nice,” Granger urged playfully, turning to gesture her partner forward. “You know Draco Malfoy, we’re collaborating for the time being.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With all the strength he possessed in his body, Draco offered his hand in a civil greeting. The edge of Charlie’s lip curled but he returned the gesture begrudgingly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the three of them made their way towards the invisible ward of the Sanctuary, Charlie hooked an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “Come on, I’ll show you around and get you out to the ridge. Can the poncy one keep up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger snickered. Draco growled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For as much as he hated Romania, Charlie Weasley, and perhaps Dragons by association— the view was breathtaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The aforementioned ridge sat over a deep valley lined with craggy rock and a few streams of water that had found weak spots in the mountain and weeped out into the earth below. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Charlie</span>
  </em>
  <span> had assisted Granger with her tent and left Draco there to fuss with the spells like an imbecile. To further his abject horror, his boss and former secret girlfriend, rescued him and effortlessly completed the simple work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Draco was left to watch as the pair of them shared private jokes and caught up on the highlights of their lives since they’d seen each other last. It was a strange reminder of how life had gone on without him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not everyone had run. Not everyone had avoided the very real repercussions of the war. They’d gone on to have families and friendships, not living in solitude in a country he detested out of shame. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What would life had looked like for him if he hadn’t tucked tail with his freedom? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head from the visions threatening to consume his mind, he focused on the horizon and the sun making a steady trail towards it’s bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We had a team out here earlier,” Weasley said, coming up to the ridge a few feet away from where Draco stood. “There are signs of traffic all through the ridge. We ward the area for magical footprints, so we’d have been alerted if they were using Apparition or portkeys. They’re on foot and likely through the valley down below. The trail ends in a forest and we usually lose them there.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You just let them wander through here unchecked?” Draco asked, his pale brow inching up towards his hairline. Whatever confidence Draco had been attempting to summon waned when he realized he was at least four inches shorter than the ginger and certainly half as broad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You do realize my job is to tame dragons, yes? I’m not an Auror. We’ve contacted local authorities but the magical Romanian government isn’t exactly the Ministry of Magic. So you'll forgive me, Malfoy, if I’m not out here doing your job.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco balked. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>My</span>
  </em>
  <span> job? Salazar’s tits, didn’t realize I needed to be hunting down every international poacher with a penchant for dragons. I’ll bump it to the top of my list, Weasel.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie’s blue eyes turned glacial and he turned, arms tucking into a tight cross over his chest. “You’re a bit of a prat, you know that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a smirk, Draco waggled his brows as he caught Granger emerging from her tent in his peripheral. “Yup.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Enough, boys,” Granger said. “There’s absolutely no reason for you two to bicker.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scoffing, Draco rolled his eyes and returned his gaze to the landscape at his feet while the kiss-arse Weasley made a quiet apology directed at Granger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have to get back to the reserve,” Charlie finally said, and Draco loosened a relieved breath. He didn’t like the git breathing the same air if he could help it. “If you need me, send a Patronus, but I think if you stay sharp you’ll find something in the area. Be careful, yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger smiled fondly and squeezed his arm before taking a few steps up and joining Draco. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You be careful too, Malfoy. Wouldn’t want your scrawny arse toppling off a mountain,” he called over his shoulder just before he disappeared with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I really don’t like him,” Draco grumbled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I think the feeling may be mutual.” The witch at his side giggled and nudged him with her elbow. “He’s a good man and if we need him, he’ll come.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think he likes you,” he blurted, regretting the choice of words nearly as soon as they’d left his lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had the good nature to appear stunned, her brow creasing and jaw falling open. “Charlie does not </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> me, at least not in any sordid way you might be thinking. Besides, I dated his little brother for upwards of two years.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Against his will, a sneer formed. “It’ll be nightfall soon. Let’s get a fire and some food before we start watch.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t wait for a response as he turned for the two tents and the stack of wood between them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orange flames licked at the night air, reaching up towards a starry heaven that felt like a wet shroud draped over his body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His disposition was less than cheerful and even Granger seemed to take notice. Thankfully, she remained mostly quiet allowing him to brood as they dug into packed sandwiches and crisps. There was nothing much to account for the shift in his demeanour except for the appearance of that damned Weasley. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Merlin, that blasted family hadn’t been a cause for pause in so long now that the sudden reemergence left him at a severe disadvantage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In every way that had mattered to almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Draco had existed leagues over Ron Weasley. He was smarter, wealthier— clearly better looking. But when it came down to the root of it, Hermione Granger hadn’t cared about all that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were days, </span>
  <em>
    <span>weeks</span>
  </em>
  <span>, where Draco would allow himself to be swallowed by the what-if’s of his life. The biggest one was undoubtedly the what-if of his exodus from England. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What if he’d stayed? What if he’d fought for her?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What if he’d apologized for not doing more?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco shook his head, desperate to shake off this bad mood that for some reason accompanied a Weasley-Granger connection. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, his gaze drifted to where she sat, munching away happily on a turkey on rye as she peered at a book splayed open on her lap. She really was lovely, more so now than even in her youth. The war had cost her weight and happiness and it seemed that she’d found those in the years of peace that followed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The flames cast harsh shadows along her face as Draco’s memory was dragged back to the corner of the Room of Requirement and watching her study for hours on end. Merlin, he’d loved her once. Loved her more than the heart that beat in his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But those days were gone, or so he so easily lied to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re staring,” Granger said from the corner of her mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco smirked and shrugged. “Well, you’re beautiful, and I find myself a man of simple pleasures these days, Granger.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confession startled them both and her gaze shot to his. He refused to back down, refused to allow his shame to grab root. Hermione clucked her tongue and folded her book shut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You always did have a silver tongue,” she said playfully, eyes wrinkling in amusement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With all of his strength he bit back the retort that she never seemed to mind his tongue when it was licking up her slit and bringing her to the edge of her sanity. That would just be crossing a line, and while Draco did love to push his luck, that might be </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Some things never change,” he mused, popping a crisp in his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shifted in her seat, knees pointing at him as she perched an elbow on a log and stared back at him. “Did you date? In Paris?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco’s nose wrinkled. “Not so much with the dating.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d done quite a bit of shagging, but then— boundaries, and all that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” she said simply. “So, I was your last girlfriend?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As much as he wanted to hide it, the slow curve of his lips was impossible to fight. “Girlfriend?” Draco peeked over at her, studying her beauty in the golden glow of the flames silhouetted against an inky sky. “Is that what you were?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because that wasn’t what he ever thought of her as— not back then, at least. Back then, she was simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even in the dim light, her cheekbones flushed crimson. “Well, maybe not </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriend.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She sniffed. “But certainly—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Granger. You were my last girlfriend. There,” he paused, swallowing the unfamiliar knot in the base of his throat. His eyes locked on hers. “There’s never been anyone else.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The truth of the statement settled into his skin, like an imprint that he would wear proudly the rest of his life. Because Granger would find someone better, as she was always meant to do, and Draco would find someone suitable. But for all his days, he would know that once he had everything and that at the truth of it, there was never going to be anyone else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The air around them shifted, and Draco forced his eyes from the gentle curve of her cheek to the horizon and the dark rolling hills of Romania. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco choked and nearly broke his glare on the landscape. He couldn’t look at her now. If he did, he’d do something stupid. And the last nearly ten years had only been about fixing the stupidity of his youth— Merlin, don’t let him rack up a higher till now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be ridiculous, Granger. There is nothing on earth you have to—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I let you go,” she interrupted. “I did. I let go when things got hard and I shouldn’t have. I should’ve fought for you. When you needed me most, I walked away. I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A mirthless laugh erupted from his belly and Draco tucked his chin. “You didn’t walk away, Granger. I left. And I would again and again and </span>
  <em>
    <span>again.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You didn’t deserve the shit I was getting you into. We were kids,” he said, his voice fighting off a tremble. “Young and stupid.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From across the fire, Granger sucked in a shaky breath. “Right. Young and stupid.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanted to jump to his feet and force it all back inside but the one thing he knew beyond a fathomable doubt was that Hermione Granger deserved better than him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Furthermore, he knew that he had and would continue to love her enough to want that for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sharp shriek pierced the air, dragging Draco from a dreamless sleep. On instinct, he jumped to his feet, gripping his wand as he blinked himself awake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Godsdamnit, he’d been on first watch and he must have dozed off. Granger scrambled from her tent, still fully dressed and wand bit between her teeth as she tied her hair up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How on earth was she already so alert?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco rushed to the side of the ridge, staring out at the valley for any signs of movement. A moment later, Granger was at his side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The silence seemed to thrum, any evidence of the ear shattering shriek now long gone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> But then, muffled voices reached his ears and the pair of Aurors bristled as they focused on the darkness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There,” Draco said, pointing to a passing shadow just a short way up the valley. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Hermione whistled and her protective cloak soared through the air and closed around her shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a glower, Draco pointed his wand at his tent and summoned it, rolling his eyes as the heavy fabric slammed into his body with no finesse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger seemed unaware of his shame as her voice dropped to a low whisper. “Stun only if you can and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Incarcerous</span>
  </em>
  <span> as soon as you have them down. No exceptions.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got it, Chief.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning, she flourished her wand. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Expecto Patronum</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” A small critter escaped, bouncing around the air and over her shoulders. It stopped suddenly, resting back on its hind legs as it peered back at her, head cocked to the side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco blanched. That wasn’t the otter from sixth year that he’d seen a dozen times when she’d been trying to teach him the blasted spell. It was a small, slender ferret. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Charlie, head to the North part of the ridge with backup if you can. We’re investigating now.” With a flick of her wrist the little creature scampered off into the night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She refused to look at him, instead fussing with her cloak and then holding out her arm to him. He could only blink, watching the way her features transformed in the ambient light of the waxing moon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t an otter,” he said seriously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it wasn’t.” She jutted her arm out again. Draco’s lips parted to speak again but she cut him off abruptly. “It changed. Okay? It happens.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew well enough to leave it alone and with a tiny hit to his ever fragile masculinity, he held tight to her arm as she whipped them down to the valley below. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They arrived silently in the darkness, and as always, Hermione took point. She stepped out first, her feet careful and sure as they worked their way slowly towards the sound. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Up ahead, Draco could make out several moving figures and another wailing screech echoed around the craggy rock. Granger clucked her tongue and then jerked her chin in the way of the suspects. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lifting his wand, Draco cast, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sonarlium.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Orange magic came to life in the darkness, and four silhouettes appeared along with nearly a dozen small dragons in captivity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger gasped, and he could practically feel the indignation rolling off her in waves. “On my mark,” she bit out. “I’ve got the two on the right.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco nodded and they stepped forward, magic flaring through his limbs as Granger pointed her wand first. She was incredible in her element, effortless magic that poured from her like an extension of her very soul. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She took down the first with ease and then shielded them both as he shot stunner after stunner in the direction of two faceless poachers. The animals in the cages turned wild, their wings fluttering and loud fearful wails penetrated the air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately for him, the two suspects he was in charge of were placed just before the cages and if he wanted to be careful of severely injuring them, he had to be precise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the far side of the ridge, three plumes of magic slammed into the earth, wand fire erupting into the darkness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The poachers startled, reeling on what Draco could only assume was backup from the Sanctuary. Granger dropped her shield. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without a word spoken, the pair of them turned and pressed their backs together as an onslaught of offensive magic shot from their wands, colouring the previously black night with brilliant jets of magic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took merely a few minutes and they had four poachers in custody. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The handlers from the reserve stepped forward from the darkness, Charlie bleeding Weasley at the helm in only a cotton shirt. Draco studied the four bound in ropes and clucked hush tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not Avery,” he said, cursing to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger growled and pushed one of the men onto his back. “You’re sure?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m sure,” he bit out. Draco turned to the oldest looking suspect and pointed his wand at his chest. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Renervate.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man in his grasp sucked in a breath and upon realizing his situation began thrashing wildly against his restraints. What sounded like a thick Russian accent poured from his lips in an endless string of obscenities. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ruhig,” Draco bit out, commanding him into silence in his native tongue. Then he lifted his wand to his throat and cast a translation charm before curling his hand into the blokes shirt and dragging him upward. “Take me to Michael Avery.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you.” The weathered man in custody then spit on Draco’s shoes and his lip curled in response. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me where Michael Avery is or I’ll see to it that your dragon kibble.” When there was no response, he continued, “Do you see that big idiot over there?” Draco gestured towards Charlie Weasley. “He’ll have your limbs in a dragon belly before dawn. Tell me where the fuck he is or I swear—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Expletives rolled off the suspect’s tongue in a endless torrent. After several long moments of what seemed eternal internal battling, he seemed to see reason. “I want immunity for cooperation— and to be extradited to Germany. Otherwise, you get nothing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger stepped forward and while Draco didn’t turn, he could sense the way she was sizing him up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If your information leads to the arrest of Michael Avery, you will be extradited to your native country. No immunity will be offered and all records will be sent to your Ministry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man spit again, this time on a rock— lucky for him. “The village just south,” he bit out. “He’s just behind the market, the one with the black shingles. He’s there now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A slow smile unfurled on Draco’s lips as he pointed his wand at the man’s chest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Stupefy.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can extradite the prick while he’s unconscious.” Draco turned to Charlie. “Can you Apparate us to the village?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded and lifted his abnormally thick arms towards the both of them. Even as bile inched up the back of Draco’s throat, he reached for him, barely brushing his skin as the Weasel tugged them along in a swift Apparition. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco took two long breaths before the heel of his boot collided with the worn wooden door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hands up! Ministry of Magic! ”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a fizzle of magic but Granger quickly deflected it as Draco bound the fool in his spot, reslishing as he collided with the floor with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em></em>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>With slow, purposeful strides, Draco came up next to the ex-Death Eater, staring down at him with all the hatred in his body. Each one of these arseholes represented his father. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Avery. Long Time no see.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hazy, grey eyes slowly settled on Draco and he smirked in response. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, the welp.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The edges of Draco’s vision darkened. “Enjoy Azakaban, you fucking prick.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco tapped his finger against the edge of his pint glass. He was exhausted and ready for a fucking day off. They’d returned to London just two days ago, Avery in custody as well as four underlings— two of which would be extradited come the fortnight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the madness of intake and testimonies, Draco had barely slept in days, and the last he’d actually gotten had been a nap in the hard dirt of Romania.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t be here now in this godforsaken seedy bar in Muggle London if Travers hadn’t said it was important. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Five more minutes passed before the door chimed with a new arrival. Draco didn’t turn; he barely acknowledged as the slim man fell into a seat next to him and ordered a whisky. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Draco said, fighting a yawn. “And be quick about it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The whisky was delivered and even from his peripheral Draco could see the nervous twitch to Travers’ body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well?” Draco pressed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Travers’ slammed his drink in a single gulp and reached into his cloak, pulling free a small scroll and sliding it across the bartop. He remained silent as he stood— without paying— and disappeared the way he came. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a scoff, Draco unfurled the parchment, his eyes rounding at the first word word on the parchment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rookwood. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. R O O K W O O D</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The infamous list loomed over the conference room. Each name was still neatly transcribed, although this time it had a perfect slash through the AVERY. The small line brought unprecedented joy to Draco. It’d been nearly six weeks since he’d joined the British Auror Department and in that time they’d arrested two known war criminals and turned one into an informant.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As Draco gnawed on the end of his expensive fountain pen, he rocked his cheap little chair back and forth and studied the rest of the names with great intent. There were barely whispers surrounding Yaxley and Dolohov, but the Carrows more than made up for it with their brazen disrespect for the law. If only they could pin the fuckers down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rosier, however, Draco was unfamiliar with. He’d known his father in the war but his son had been too young— not to mention in Durmstrang— to get caught up in the bullshit Draco’d been dragged into. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door opened and the ambient noise of the bullpen floated into his previously quiet space. Potter, Granger, and Robards shuffled in first, lost in quiet conversation and ignoring his existence altogether. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Next was that stupid fuck, McLaggen and his partner, Chang. Edith and Richards were next, followed by a pair of witches from Potter’s squadron that Draco had not put enough effort into remembering by name. The fact that they were here meant it was something he probably ought to learn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robards took a seat next to Draco, his breath coming out in a tired wheeze as he lowered himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Potter cleared his throat and began, “Right, let’s begin with Quinn and Alice. What do you have for us?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me sir,” McLaggen said, “Does the criminal need to be here for this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A slow smile stretched over Draco’s lips as he tapped his ink pen into his parchment, refusing to even turn to the fool. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For the countless time, Auror Malfoy is not a criminal as he was acquitted of all charges,” Granger said tightly. “And he’s working with me for the time being, so yes, he needs to be here. Now, don’t interrupt again.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Draco rolled his head to the side and grinned broadly at his new rival. Merlin, he forgot how fun it was to rile up Gryffindors with the sheer audacity of his existence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Properly chastised, McLaggen sank into his seat like a petulant child and one of the witches began. About half way through the tall witches presentation, Draco learned that she was Quinn, and that this little meeting seemed to be for the leads of the Squadrons. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whoever the fuck put McLaggen in charge of more than a butter knife needed serious career counseling, but Draco decided to take the high road and not remark on it— for now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whatever Potter’s squadron was working on didn’t seem all that exciting, a string of robberies in Hertfordshire and a few disappearances that caught Draco’s ear, but nothing more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McLaggen and Chang had experienced a slower week, basic patrol and desk work. No new leads. Exactly what Draco would expect from the git. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, it seemed, all eyes were on Draco. When he didn’t immediately begin speaking— mostly for lack of knowing he bloody well had to— Granger said, “Malfoy and I apprehended Michael Avery in Romania last week. The poaching and illegal dragon trade is becoming a real problem and unfortunately their Ministry is lacking in both resources and direction.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What can we do about it, boss?” McLaggen said, the kiss-ass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Potter cleared his throat and took a step forward. “We need patrols doubled up, that will mean longer hours but we need to infiltrate where and </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> these ingredients and drugs are being brought into Diagon.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like Chang and McLaggen noted, the activity in Knockturn is suspiciously quiet,” Granger said.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco lifted a finger. “Sorry, but I think we are going about this the wrong way. If you flood Knockturn with Aurors, it’ll slow the spread but it’s not going to do jackshit about the actual problem, or those running the operation. They’ve got time, they can wait. And after a few weeks when life returns to normal and the Aurors drop off, it’ll start up again.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> McLaggen snorted. “What’s your plan then, Malfoy? Let them run rampant and unchecked?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What a brilliant deduction, McCunty, but no, that was not my plan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gentlemen,” Robards chided. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco dragged his tongue over his teeth, considering his next words carefully lest McLaggen’s head explode all over his new suit. “If you want to merely slow this crime ring down, sure, have an Auror convention down there. But if you want to kill the tree you don’t cut off the branches.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the silence that followed, Draco and Granger’s eyes locked, recognition fluttering across her features. “You need to dig up the root.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ambient chatter filled the room but before Granger’s attention was dragged away, he mouthed a silent </span>
  <em>
    <span>atta girl </span>
  </em>
  <span>and winked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s all well and good and poetic,” Potter said, dragging a hand through his unkempt hair. “But how do we go about wading through the weeds for this proverbial root?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco shrugged. “Send someone in undercover.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Send them </span>
  <em>
    <span>where?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Chang pressed, disbelief evident in the elongated syllables of her simple question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rising to his feet, Draco pulled free the scroll that Travers had given him a few days prior. “I met with my informant on Saturday—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t mention you’d met with Travers,” Granger blurted, her cheeks flushing in misplaced ire. Really she just didn’t like that Draco had more information than she did— she never had. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what this is, Chief. It’s me mentioning it.” Draco unfurled the scroll. “Travers pointed us in the direction of someone else on the list: Augustus Rookwood.” Quiet murmurs filled the conference room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robards huffed. “Rookwood served his time, fleeting as it may be. He’s no longer a wanted criminal in London.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s a reason he’s on the list, sir. Rookwood may have not have been a major player in the war, but he is a key suspect if a revival were to be taking place. We can’t ignore that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s right,” Draco corrected gently. “On the list, I’d be most wary of Dolohov and Yaxley but Rookwood isn’t on the same tier as Travers. Apparently, he’s been sighted a lot recently. There’s a pub in Knockturn: Bantam and Toad.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His colleagues shared a curious look but it was the shorter witch from Potters team, Alice, that spoke. “I don’t know of a pub by that name.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well you wouldn’t,” Draco replied easily. “You wouldn’t be invited, not likely able to find it. I’ve been with my father— and before you say a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>word</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mcallistar, I’ll remind you I was acquitted.” He glared at his blond counterpart for a long moment before continuing, “Rookwood has been seen there, mostly coming and going from the back room but Travers mentioned that he seems to be preoccupied with a certain betting table.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What kind of place is it?” The space between Granger’s eyes was deeply creased, her lips pulled into a tight line. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just say, it isn’t your kind of haunt, Chief.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy,” Potter barked, “How many people know you’re back in London?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shrugging, Draco waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Whoever works here. I haven’t had a coming home party or anything but I’ve not made it a secret either.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> get into this Bantam and Toad’s?” Scarhead pressed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I could walk in the front door, but that wouldn’t do much good. You forget I assisted in the trials of nearly a dozen convicted Death Eaters, my father included. I don’t exactly think it’d be a warm reception.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Potter removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Do we have someone else? What about your informant—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Travers is a pawn,” Draco interrupted with a scoff. “They’ll let him sit at the bar but he’s not welcomed around the table.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if...” Chang’s voice rumbled from where she sat next to her partner, her eyes cast down in thought. “What if you had a reason for coming back, Malfoy? Something that they could help you with?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning in his chair, Draco leaned forward. The witch had caught his curosity. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, what if you went undercover as yourself— as an Auror.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That seems counterproductive.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You could be a dirty cop,” the former Ravenclaw edged. “Maybe there is something that makes sense that you would need that would turn you into a mole? Something that they could provide.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A thought scampered across his mind, and he chased after it, watching tendrils of an idea stitch together. “My father.” Draco gnawed his lip as the final pieces clicked into place. “It’s not the wildest stretch that I’d want him out and he’s gotten out of Azkaban before.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You—” Granger’s eyes darted nervously around the room. “You want to break your father out of prison?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, obviously not. I want them to </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>I want to get him out. I can come up with something... I’ve been in Paris creating alternate identities and getting us a way out of Europe— shit, I don’t know.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> send the Death Eater scum back into revel with his mates?” McLaggen said, earning a sharp sneer from Draco. “Let’s send in a nobody.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brilliant idea, Mcidiot. Say, how quick do you think a halfblood is going to rise in the ranks to get us anywhere near the middle of this thing? Better yet, would </span>
  <em>
    <span>you— </span>
  </em>
  <span>a known Auror, Gryffindor, and all around prick— like to prance in there asking for a job? They’ll have you fucked up and obliviated before you can order a drink.” Before anyone could get a word in to chastise him, Draco continued, stabbing his finger into the desk to amplify his point. “Listen this might not be You-Know-Who’s regime, but the ideals are the same. Find yourself a morally grey pureblood with a reason to be there or don’t, but you can’t just send in a twit with a decent last name and a nice set of trousers to get the job done.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re so sure?” Potter asked, his thick brow arching up over his wire frame glasses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If McGit is going to prove himself, they are going to make him do </span>
  <em>
    <span>things.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Things he might not recover from and the Ministry might not want to look the other way on.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger sucked in a quiet breath, her gaze locking on his. “They wouldn’t do that to you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They already did,” he bit out. “The Ministry looked the other way because of what I did to get out and no— I never fully recovered either. So if we’ve danced around this enough, I think I’ve made my point.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Potter’s intensely green gaze studied Draco carefully while Robard tapped a meaty finger against his parchment. With a sharp breath, the department head relented. “It’s up to you, Granger. It’s your mission and he’s your man.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was obvious to anyone looking that Granger was warring with herself. “Okay,” she relented after a long moment. “But you’re not going in alone. I’ll go undercover—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not, Granger!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hermione…” Potter warned. He was quickly silenced with the gentle lift of her fingers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You heard Chief Robards. It’s my decision, my team. I’ll have the Potions Department send up polyjuice potion and we’ll get started immediately.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco’s jaw snapped shut and he tried his best to stave off the overwhelming anxiety inching over his skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was perhaps her stupidest idea yet, and the witch had broken into fucking Gringotts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mum!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco was barely out of the grate before he was bellowing through the great room and stomping soot and ash from his shoes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finding the room empty, a glower formed on Draco’s features as he marched towards her drawing room. His blood ran cold at the sound of her tinkering— fake— laughter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A moment later and she rounded the corner, a tall, pratty looking idiot on her arm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There he is!” Narcissa cooed, and Draco’s gaze narrowed on Theodore Nott in his bloody home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was really no point in him harboring such intense animosity for the git, but he couldn’t help it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nott,” Draco said terseley. “What do we owe the pleasure?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘Ello, mate!” Theo offered a hand as they approached and his wide, Cheshire grin made Draco’s nose wrinkle. “I was hoping to speak to you a moment. It’s about work. Luckily for me, your mum had tea ready and we got to catch up.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was my pleasure, Theodore. You ought not be such a stranger here. What with my own son leaving me to my own devices, surely </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> can check in on an old, frail woman from time to time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re forty-eight years old, mother. Please stop with your antics.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Narcissa gasped and batted at her son’s shoulder. “I raised you better than to reveal a woman’s age.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Draco could retort, his face twisted in sheer and utter disbelief, she returned her doting smile to Nott. “Would you like to stay for dinner, Theodore? It would be no trouble.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure about that?” Draco grumbled, picking non-existent lint off his suit just for something to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Narcissa was about to reprimand him but Nott’s booming laughter filled the silence first. “You always did like to yank my wand, Malfoy. Thank you for the offer Mrs. Malfoy, but I have dinner plans already.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Soon, then.” Narcissa offered her cheek which Theo kissed. “I’ll have dinner ready at seven, Draco dear.” With nothing else said, she disappeared down the corridor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s too old for you, Nott.” Draco stomped past him and into the library, making directly for the drink cart and pouring himself a stiff drink without offering one to his Slytherin counterpart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Deep laughter flowed from Theo and for the life of him, Draco couldn’t remember the git being so fucking smarmy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m here at the request of our Chief Detective Granger.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The very sound of her name on his lips made Draco scowl. “Is that so? I just left her company, so I’m surprised she didn’t mention it herself.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s of a legal matter.” Theo sat on the edge of the chaise and pulled free a scroll from his cloak and shook it gently. “Immunity for your time undercover with the exception of the Killing Curse. The Auror Department has a spell that you'll be required to use in its stead, it replicates the spell although places the victim under a deep magical comatose. Hopefully it won’t come to it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Visceral memories of the war threatened to close in around Draco’s precarious state of mind. He’d never cast the Killing Curse, but the others in the dark trifecta of unforgivable curses, he had. They were moments he’d never forget, no matter how long he tried and how much Occulumency he mastered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it was something he should’ve thought more on before volunteering his arse to infiltrate a known Death Eater jaunt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After draining the firewhisky in his tumbler, he crossed the room and plucked the scroll from Theo’s fingers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just like that? I’m absolved of any future crimes?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The skin around Nott’s eyes tightened infinitesimally. “Don’t push it, Malfoy. There are contingencies in there and as you well know, the Wizengamot has a long memory. During your time undercover, you are not to tell anyone of your involvement outside of Granger, Potter, Chief Robards, the few detectives who were in the room when you were assigned and me, your liaison to the Wizengamot.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco huffed as he scanned the paper. With a flick of his fingers, a quill materialized. He plucked it from the air and neatly signed his name, watching as it glowed golden and then sank into the heavy parchment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There,” he said, letting it roll up and then stood. “That all?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laughing quietly to himself, Theo tucked the agreement away and stowed it in his cloak as he stood. “You know, I keep racking my brain for why you turned into such a wanker since you’ve left London. You never really were all that pleasant but you’ve peaked, mate.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Draco sucked his tongue between his teeth and took a sip of his whiskey. “Maybe I just don’t like you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Theo shrugged and crossed the room for the Floo. “Maybe not. But seeing as how I’m the one that’ll be keeping your arse out of Azkaban, maybe you can find it in that cold, black heart of yours to try and remain amenable. Have a good night, Malfoy.” Theo grabbed a fistfull of Floo powder and stepped into the grate. “I’ll give Granger your regards.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room flashed with a brilliant green as Theo disappeared in the flames. Draco swallowed the rest of his drink and slammed the crystal too hard against the table before storming from the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>xXx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some places held flesh memories. Merely stepping onto the crooked stone of Knockturn Alley sent a chill skittering up Draco’s spine and pulled his thick cloak tighter around his chest as he remembered the first time he’d been allowed to attend a meeting with his father. The weight of his Malfoy signet ring felt heavier somehow; he’d not actively worn it for so long that it’s return felt like it was shrieking at every passerby. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few patrons of Diagon Alley had recognized him, giving him a sidelong glance and probably noting his location lest they need to testify to his whereabouts at a later date. It’s not that it wasn’t expected, but he’d certainly enjoyed the anonymity of Paris all these years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco startled when two dainty fingers tapped on his shoulder and he nearly jumped from his skin as he rounded on the beautiful young witch behind him. She was petite, with short black curly hair and rich toned skin the color of hot cocoa. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Merlin’s tit,” he growled. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that how you speak to strangers?” The girl rolled her eyes. “No wonder no one likes you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco’s gaze flittered across the girl's unfamiliar face; he’d know that voice anywhere. “G-</span>
  <em>
    <span>Granger?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She lifted her hands in supplication. “The one and only.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the initial shock had worn off, he studied her clothing carefully and scoffed. “There is no way in hell you’re wearing trousers to this bloody pub. You look like an Auror.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hazel eyes narrowed. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> an Auror. Forgive me for not having my party clothes on but I don’t want to be seen as some—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Actually,” Draco interjected, “you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to be seen as some whatever you were about to say. You want to blend in, not stick out like a hippogriff at a housewarming party.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “It’s fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s really not.” He studied his surroundings and then gripped her gently around the elbow and tugged her away from prying eyes. “Don’t hex me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco pulled his wand free and pointed at her chest, his features twisting in anticipation of Granger’s ire.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Multicorfors.”</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly the fabric covering Granger’s borrowed body pulled tighter, the material transforming into a short, emerald green cocktail dress. Her practical pumps lifted higher, turning into a shiny black with a pointed toe and a thin stiletto. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you gone absolutely mental?” she hissed, pulling on the hem of her dress with a scowl. “Why on earth would you think that I’m walking into a Death Eater party dressed like this?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over her shoulder, Travers slinked into view. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because if you don’t,” Draco said absently. “I won’t be taking you in with me.” He shrugged his cloak off and draped it over her newly exposed body before dropping a hand to her lower back and guiding her forward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy,” Travers said with a sneer before nodding at Granger. “Malfoy’s boss, I’m assuming.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can call me Hela for the evening, Mister Travers.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco snorted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hela?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have to have an opinion on everything?” she bit out, turning to face him directly. “Honestly, you’re absolutely the most—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rowena’s rack, Granger. Pull the broomstick out of your arse before you blow our cover.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t speak to me like that!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Traver’s eyes darted between the pair of Aurors bickering. “Maybe we ought to do this another night? I don’t feel like getting murdered because you two can’t seem to work out your sexual tension.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Travers!” They shouted in tandem before turning back to each other. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy, listen to me right this—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Granger</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you listen to me. Travers is right. If you aren’t prepared to do absolutely anything to make this sell, you should leave now. If you want to be an obstinate arse at the office, that’s fine. But you could get us all killed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That seemed to sober her self-righteous indignation, and she straightened to full height. “You know I would never purposely compromise a mission.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Good. Now, you’ll be my escort. Do you understand what that means?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She squirmed. “I think so.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Smirking, Draco took a predatory step forward so he was looming over her. “It means that you’ll need to be far less hostile. You’ll need to act like you actually want me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tendons of her throat tightened in a hard swallow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Want you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like you want me to touch you. Like you want to touch me.” Draco’s hand slipped between the opening of his cloak and his fingertips lingered on her hip before sliding back and resting his hand on the curve of her lower back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her uneasiness was apparent but the witch had the tenacity to try. She leaned into him, her chest pressing against his. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Travers, the idiot that he was, broke the moment by clearing his throat and they both startled. “You two really do need to shag.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” they repeated in unison, wearing matching sneers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now,” Draco continued, “you may be my boss but in there you do as you're told— don’t even say what you’re about to say.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger pouted in the most ferociously adorable way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I tell you to stay, you stay. If I tell you to come, you come. If I tell you to sit in my lap—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. I got it Malfoy. But you can treat me with a modicum of respect; I’m not a dog.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, he turned to Travers and fussed with his suit jacket before jerking his chin into the shadows of Knockturn Alley.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Travers turned fidgety, craning his neck around every corner like he was on the verge of being caught by the wrong side— whoever that might be. Down a narrow alley was a small wooden door without a handle. Travers pulled his knotted wand out and tapped quickly three times, dragged the tip of his wand down, and then made a wide circle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, he stepped straight through. Draco straightened his spine, took a deep breath and led Granger through the opening. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside, the pub was dark and dank. Smoke and dark magic billowed through the air, swirling around low hanging lights and worn, crooked tables. The patrons were of a certain sort, the exact sort that Draco had long since said goodbye to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a hand on Granger’s back, they approached the bar. Adopting an air of arrogance that he’d been practically born with, he raised an aristocratic brow and peered down his nose at the barkeep approaching them. He was a repulsive little man, covered in warts with a bulbous nose and several missing teeth. Draco’s lip curled slightly as he came to stop in front of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Three Ogdens.” He tossed a handful of galleons down. “Keep the rest.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The barkeep shuffled away and returned with the drinks a moment later, grumbling to himself as he retreated back to the other customers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco could </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> the stares. He wasn’t exactly sure how many knew about his career but he was quite certain that they all knew that he was an acquitted Death Eater responsible for putting nearly a dozen Death Eaters away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Outwardly, he exuded confidence, turning to stare at the people who were studying him with such intensity. Inside, his stomach was in knots. Things happened to people in places like this, things that he didn’t want Granger to see. Things he definitely didn’t want to happen </span>
  <em>
    <span>to</span>
  </em>
  <span> her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Travers began idly chatting, his hand trembling as his gaze darted around the room. There was no sign of Rookwood. No sign of anyone on Granger’s coveted list of criminals, just a bunch of no-name misfits scowling in his direction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger remained uncharacteristically quiet, her slender legs elegantly crossed as she took small sips of her drink. Her fingers came up to his lapels, tugging him closer and while her body looked nothing like her, the familiar scent of her perfume and skin remained. For a moment he was lost to memory, but it was quickly scattered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s a door,” she whispered, her fingers threading through the hair at the back of his neck causing him to shiver. “Some people just came out.” </span>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Draco took another swallow and gestured to the bartender for another. As surreptitiously as possible Draco turned back to the smoke filled pub. Sure enough an innocuous door, much like the one that granted entry, sat tucked in the shadows of the pub.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's here," Travers hissed, turning abruptly in his seat and staring at the back wall with great intent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger craned her neck, peering through the crowd. "Who?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was more a shadow than man and how on earth Travers recognized him was beyond him. But there was a distinct feeling that ran over Draco's body when he locked his sights on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A young witch with shiny dark hair and a pout began winding through the tables, making her way straight for Draco. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she stopped, he looked down at her with little interest. "Yes?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mr. Rookwood would like to see you," she said in a slow purr. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, would he? That's interesting. Tell him where I'm at." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling, the girl shook her head. "I don't think you understand. Mr. Rookwood isn't extending an invitation. Follow me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't take orders from anyone," Draco sneered, his feet planted firmly against the dingy tile. "Least of all Augustus bloody Rookwood. Run and tell your boss to check his ego before he summons a Malfoy." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> Granger vibrating anxiously in her seat but Draco remained unaffected. Turning to lean against the bar, he sipped on his drink and ignored the annoyed huffing of the messenger until she finally turned and returned to her master. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Malfoy," Granger warned. "You're—" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm handling it. Just keep quiet." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wasn't sure who was more uncomfortable, Travers or Granger. Regardless, he dismissed them both until a familiar prickling over his skin announced the arrival of the very git he was hoping to run into. He didn't turn to greet the man, instead finishing his drink in a slow, purposeful gulp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Rookwood," he said flatly as he set his drink down. "What do I owe the pleasure?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I see you're still the insubordinate little whelp you were back in the war." The sound of Rookwood's voice brought visceral, bloody memories back to the front of Draco's mind. It took all his strength not to flinch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Draco faced him. His face was mostly the same, round and red and ugly. "Insubordinate?" Pulling a face, Draco stood tall and straightened his tie for good measure. "That would imply you have some sort of power over me, Gus. I assure you, you do not." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What're you doing back in London, boy? Death wish?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smirking, Draco draped his arm over Granger's shoulder. "Piss off, Rookwood."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Word on the street is you're an Auror now." Rookwood's lecherous gaze traveled the length of Granger's legs and back again. "Dangerous business." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Quite." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Would be a real shame if something happened to you... especially in a place such as this." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not concerned," Draco said simply, his fingers playing idly with the dense curls covering Granger's shoulders. "A bit of a high profile target to go missing in a place like this. Might bring all sorts of unwanted attention to your little party." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snorting, Rookwood shook his head. "What do you want, whelp?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not officially here," Draco said, dropping his voice low. "I have a job. I'm looking for an employee." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And Travers here is your man is he?" Rookwood grinned at the slight man at Draco's side and then punched him jovially on the shoulder. "Must be a big job."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't let Travers handle a spoon— no offense." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment stretched on for a long, quiet moment and finally Rookwood relented. "You've piqued my curiosity, kid. Come on. Leave your witch." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rookwood had already turned when Draco finally looked back to Granger.  "Stay," he said, his lips twitching on the corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger mashed her lips together, rage flaring to life in her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, because maybe he did have a death wish, he added, "Good girl," and then patted her on the thigh.  Snickering to himself, he followed Rookwood through the door in the back and immediately was transported to a much nicer room. The floors were now wood, the walls covered in dark grey upholstery and the stench that seemed to be a semi-permanent fixture out front was thankfully gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was another bar but far fewer people were hanging around. Most of the men had girls in their laps and their meaty paws all over them. Rookwood took a seat at a gambling table and gestured for Draco to do the same. A scantily clad waitress appeared with two more drinks and even with the firewhisky buzzing in his ears, he accepted it for appearance sake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm surprised to see you milling about, Rookwood. Rumor around the office has it you're a wanted man." Draco dragged his finger along the rivets of the fine crystal glassware, his gaze locked at the opposite of the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is that so?”His crooked grin gleaned in the darkness. "Is that why you're here, Malfoy? Going to arrest me? Last I checked I served three years in that hell hole of a prison and I’ve been a good boy sense, not a single tick against me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I couldn't give two shits about you, Gus. I need something done, and I can't do it myself." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why? Trouble with your boss?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco's eyes narrowed just slightly. "Something like that. Listen, I'm not about to offer up all my plans— especially not to you of all people— but I need some dirt and I'm willing to pay." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't trust you," Rookwood said, his eyes nearly black. "Who's to say you aren't just going to—" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groaning, Draco's head fell back. "Let me repeat, I don't give a shit about some third tier criminal on the run from Harry fucking Potter. I need you to point me in the direction of someone who can get dirt on an Auror for me. Travers said this place might be the right place to look. Is it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rookwood steepled his hands over his mouth and Draco could practically hear his rusty little cogs swirling in his head. "Prove it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lip curled in disdain. "Prove </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That you're here for the reasons you say you are."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sighed. "And how on earth would you suggest I do that? I don't owe you anything." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe not me," he replied, lifting his hands in defeat. "But you put a lot of people away, Malfoy. The higher ups will be interested to hear you're sniffing around. Some of them had hope that you weren't lost for good, I'll tell you that much." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not lost." Draco tucked his chin. "Exactly where I was always meant to be." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dragging his tongue over his teeth, Rookwood paused to consider it and then cocked his head to the side. "Bring collateral tomorrow night or don't come back at all." Splaying his hands on the table, the other man rose to stand. "And Malfoy?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco merely arched a brow in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Those friends of mine... the ones looking out for me? You might want to make sure that you stay out of their way. They tend to hang around Wiltshire... Would hate if something happened all the way out there. Lots of lonely widows with shotty wards, would be a real shame." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rage flared to life in the back of his throat and Draco saw red. He could kill this degenerate for the implication that something might befall his mother. Even the promise of Azkaban would not keep him from taking the man's life with his bare hands. But he remained steadfast, unwavering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally Rookwood waved him off. "Off with you. Come back tomorrow and leave bloody Travers at home." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gritting his teeth, Draco rose and buttoned his suit jacket. He had twenty-four hours to make this work. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Welp, that's all she wrote-- literally. </p><p>There are four more chapters plotted and the next is about halfway written! I hope you enjoyed what I have and can't wait to share the rest with you! </p><p>Much love!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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